Amid the Ruins

A thin veil of mist still clung to the slopes of the Eastern Mountains as Ailine stepped down from the relief team’s vehicle, her boots sinking slightly into the wet, muddy ground left by last night’s rain. The cold pierced through her thick jacket, and her cap and mask covered most of her face. The eyes that usually sparkled on stage now carried a tense weight, a deep sorrow mirrored in their sheen. All around her, the remnants of shattered buildings stretched like a scar across the landscape, landslides gaping like wounds in the earth, and broken trees lay scattered like splintered toys.

And this was already considered one of the better areas, with roads cleared for access. She shuddered at the thought of how desolate it must have been when fully isolated. She couldn’t even begin to imagine.

In the distance, the wailing sirens of ambulances mingled with the shouts of volunteers lifting debris and evacuating victims. The air was thick with the smell of wet earth, burnt wood, and dust that stung the nose and throat. Every step she took sent a quiet pang through her chest—she had never witnessed a disaster this immense, and it seemed impossible that anyone could survive amidst such devastation.

A senior volunteer, a man clad in a bright orange jacket, approached Ailine and her small group.

“New here? Listen carefully. This zone is unstable. Landslides can happen without warning. Follow the team’s instructions, don’t get near any debris that looks unsafe, always wear your helmet and protective gear. And… keep your distance from the media. Drones are filming—we don’t need distractions in the field.”

Ailine and her companions nodded.

Her breath caught in her throat as her gaze swept over the ruins, her heart tightening with a silent ache. “Yes… I understand,” she murmured, her voice nearly drowned by the cacophony of collapsing structures and shouted commands.

Another coordinator handed her a spare helmet and mask, fully aware of her real identity. “This is standard protocol. Every volunteer must wear them. No personal identifiers should be visible. Everyone here is important, but our focus is on the victims, not cameras.”

Ailine adjusted the mask and pulled her cap lower, hiding the glossy strands of her hair. She wanted to blend in, to appear as just another volunteer—ordinary, unremarkable, known to no one here except a select few.

Every time her gaze lingered on the ruins, her chest felt tight, but she forced herself to push through. This wasn’t just about finding Owen. This was about the people who had lost homes, families, even their hope.

She began to walk along the narrow paths carved by the rescue teams. Surrounding her, piles of collapsed structures towered dangerously, jagged metal beams protruding like teeth. She saw volunteers draping blankets over injured victims while paramedics administered first aid with calm efficiency. Every scene made her heart lurch.

She paused beside a toppled concrete slab, bending slightly to take in the devastation. Her eyes welled with tears.

“My God… all of them… they’re all…” she whispered. The tightness in her chest mingled with a sense of guilt. She wanted to scream, to cry, yet she had to remain strong. She had to stay focused.

A young volunteer approached, giving her a quick briefing. “We’re divided into sectors. I’m in charge of this area. Stick with me, don’t remove your mask or cap. Focus on the victims and the aid. Don’t worry about who sees you.”

Ailine nodded again, her voice catching but her resolve strengthening. She recalled the video of Owen at the hospital—calm, focused, fearless amidst the rubble. She wanted to be part of that. Not just to see him, but to help those who needed it most.

She walked slowly, ducking under unstable debris. Each step felt heavier than the last. She passed a collapsed school building, walls cracked and peeling, bulletin boards torn. Children’s toys were scattered on the ground, broken, as if to show how quickly a disaster could shatter a fragile life. Her heart ached, yet she swallowed her tears. She couldn’t linger in grief; there was work to be done.

Near a mound of debris, she saw other volunteers carefully evacuating a trapped child. Her hands trembled as she helped lift a small box and some rubble, careful not to hurt the child. She held her breath, focused, but worry gnawed at her. The child was safe, yet the shadows of the rubble made her thoughts race to Owen—was he safe? Had he found all the victims who needed him?

She continued, following the team’s directions, but her eyes kept scanning the chaos for a glimpse of him. She knew Owen had to be here somewhere, saving people calmly, just as she had seen in the viral video.

Yet, Ailine restrained herself, pushing aside her desire to seek him out. She prioritized the victims first.

“They’re all so pitiful… I can’t just look away… It’s okay if I don’t find Owen right now. I’ll help them first. Later… later, I’ll find him. He’s somewhere in this area, based on what I know. At least I’m in the same zone,” she thought, her resolve hardening.

She worked tirelessly alongside the others. Though evening fell, she didn’t mind. None of the volunteers had taken a proper break yet.

On and on, she searched, assisted, comforted victims. At first, fear and sadness surged, a chaotic whirl of emotions, almost making her want to scream at the sight of decomposing bodies. But reality was harsher than her imagination, and she had to face it.

Ailine barely had a chance to cry. She didn’t know how to process her feelings. All she could do was contribute what she could, as much as she could.

As night deepened, the disaster relief team leader called for rest and a meal at the emergency tent operated by the military and government.

Ailine trudged alone, utterly spent, having worked all day since arriving. Her usual stamina faltered under fatigue, and her clothes were streaked with mud. Water was precious here; showers were impossible. She could only wash her hands, face, and feet.

“Owen… where are you?” she murmured, weary.

Her heart leapt when she caught sight of him in the distance. She lowered her head, adjusting her mask and cap, then stepped closer, a mix of awe and longing twisting her chest.

“I-Is that… Owen?” she whispered.

He was at a medical tent, stitching the hand of a disaster victim. Despite the fatigue etched across his face, the seriousness in his expression was undeniable, even behind the surgical mask.

Ailine watched him, the man she had always loved, always longed for.

To her, Owen always looked impossibly admirable, no matter what he did. It was no wonder she had admired him, even fallen for him, since high school.

She stepped forward, keeping a careful distance from the tent. Her chest ached—a tangled mix of pride, guilt from having once pushed him away, and a longing she could barely contain.

“If I approach suddenly… will he be angry because I sent him away back then?” she wondered, her gaze clouded with doubt. She wanted to run to him, but she knew the marks she had left on him, the wounds she had inflicted, couldn’t be erased.

Yet here she was, daring to come because of him. And now, seeing him, her legs froze.

She was afraid…

“Ah? He’s done with his patient? I-Is he going to rest? D-Don’t come here!”

Ailine panicked as Owen removed his mask and gloves, turning unexpectedly toward her. She wanted to retreat, but her feet refused to obey.

By the time he recognized her, it was too late to run.

“Ailine?” Owen’s voice broke through, calm yet laced with surprise, as he stood before her.

“…” Ailine froze, bowing her head.

“Ailine, right?” Owen called again.

She slowly lifted her mask, summoning the courage to meet his gaze.

“O-Owen, I-I came to ap-…”

Gyuttt… Before she could finish, Owen pulled her into a tight embrace.

Wait—what?

It was firm, lasting longer than she expected.

Ailine froze, utterly bewildered. Owen… was hugging her???

And then the background noise—the shouts, the sirens—interrupted the romantic moment. Tch, she didn’t like it.

But Owen’s strong hands guided her to a quieter spot. The superstar simply commanded; she followed willingly.

“What were you thinking, huh? Why are you here? This place is extremely dangerous! Look at your clothes, your hands, your face—all muddy…” Owen scolded.

“…” This was the first time someone had scolded her like this, especially Owen. And yet… she enjoyed it. She liked it when he fussed.

He tugged her hand again. “Come on, let’s meet the disaster relief chief. You have to return to the capital!”

Ailine paused, resisting.

“Why? You need to go back, Ailine! This place isn’t suitable for you! Don’t you know how dangerous it is here? Aftershocks can happen, more landslides may follow!”

“If this place is dangerous for me, then it’s dangerous for you too, isn’t it?” Ailine finally spoke.

“I’m a doctor, you’re an actress…”

“What difference does it make? Doctor, actress, civilian… we’re all human. Everyone faces risks here!”

“Please, don’t be stubborn. Come with me to see the chief, then you can take an ambulance or a relief vehicle back. In half an hour they’ll return to the nearest town; you can catch public transport to the airport…”

Owen took her hand again—but this time, Ailine hugged him from behind.

“Ailine…”

She shook her head against his back.

“Understand this, it’s incredibly dangerous. I worry about you.”

“I worry about you too.” Ailine tightened her embrace.

Owen exhaled. He had always known that Ailine could be stubborn, and right now, she was more determined than ever.

“You won’t leave?”

“Hm…”

“Even if I insist, you’ll stay?”

“Hm.”

Owen sighed again.

“Owen…” Ailine called softly.

“Yes?”

“I’m hungry.”

“What?”

And just like that, Ailine’s stomach announced itself in protest.

Owen sighed again—yet another time.