Before Seoul became the only inhabitable city in the East, there was an organization called the UN. They existed to keep the peace between nations. I bet when they were founded, no one could've guessed what would happen a hundred years later. How their efforts would be in vain.

Seoul, New York, and London are all that remain. At least it is slightly comforting to know the humans of the past had good intentions.

In the outskirts of Seoul, I step over the rubble and try not to look out to the destruction. The wasteland that starts at the border and stretches out as far as the eye can see. Today's mission is finding scraps. No—not food—but that would be nice as well.

I have to be careful not to step outside the city's shield, one of the three in the world that protects its inhabitants from the lingering radiation. It's invisible, but it's there, casting a slight waver in the air. When I push close enough to the boundary, I can find gold. Not actual gold, but it might as well be with the rising demand for steel and other types of metal.

I brought a burlap sack, and when I dig with my gloved hands, I'm thankful that not many citizens want to travel to the outskirts. It's too risky, most of them say. One wrong step and then you'll be out of the shield, exposed to the toxic waste. But I can't afford not to take risks. My younger brother, father, and mother are counting on me. My brother is too young to work. My father is injured from a biking accident, not able to find a decent job for his condition. Mom sells jewelry, which is probably the least successful business during a time of financial drought.

I scavenge.

It's what I'm good at.

My hands ache with the effort of lifting heavy rocks in pursuit of something shiny that catches my eye. Most times, I'm unlucky. I swear out loud when I heave a rock the size of a golden retriever out of the way, only to find that what piqued my interest was a gum wrapper.

I climb, grabbing on to fallen scaffolding for support. I jump from rock to rock like a gymnast. I've become quite good at this in the two years I've been treating this like a second job. My first job, a dishwasher at a three star hotel, brings in pennies.

A rock under my foot gives way, and for a second I'm free falling. But experience has done me well. I look quickly for a foothold, grabbing onto a plastic chair that's lodged into a wall of dirt and stone. I heave myself up and over the mound. My burlap sack full of metals ricochets against my back. But I'm already used to it. It doesn't knock the air out of me like the first few months as a scavenger.

But I'm still gasping. Too many close calls like that and I won't be able to bring home anything for my family. The image of them sitting around the dinner table with nothing but a single bowl of rice drives me forward.

One hour passes. Then another. My arms ache, and my spoils are few. But little globes of aluminum, strips of bronze, and copper coins breathe new life into me. My aches and pains are worth it. Worth it if they feed my family for another day. I breathe in when I place the base of a light bulb into my sack. That's one piece of bread. At least.

The sun sinks toward the horizon. Purple and orange refract into Seoul's shield. Within the safety of it, I watch the sunset while taking one last peak around the grounds. Sometimes, the best spoils come at the end of the day....

Nope, nothing but crumbling grayness. I guess it is time to head back. Maybe, if the pawn shop is still open, I can—

"Hey, cutie!"

I turn around, vision turning sharp and cautious. Yes, spoils are plenty on the outskirts of Seoul. But it also means trouble. Seoul's excuse for a police force doesn't patrol this area. Sometimes, criminals like to make this place their playground.

And today, a man with a peppered beard and sunglasses stalks me like a hungry tiger. I can already tell from his gait that he's under the influence. He reeks even from here. The sour mixes with the dust, and I fight the urge to gag. I take a step back and almost fall off the rock formation. I look all around, but the only pathway I can take without falling is toward the direction of the man.

Breathing heavily, the fear mixes with my exhaustion of combing through this junkyard. But I swallow it, refusing to tremble. Loonies come with the job. He's drunk or high, and all I need is one swing with the right weapon. I bend down, grabbing a plastic pipe that isn't so heavy but should knock someone out when the proper force is applied.

I stand my ground. My height can be used to my advantage. Maybe I can poke him an arm's distance away, not even having to lay a finger on his soiled t-shirt and jeans that look like they've been through a mud facial.

The man climbs, baring his yellow teeth. He's out of breath already, but a grit he summons drives him forward. Who knows how long he's been wandering across the trash, looking for someone to torment?

I set my sack down, standing in front of it and guarding it like a dragon would its hoard. I visualize my family. My dad's smile, my mom's brazen laugh, my brother's ability to turn everything to a joke. This one's for them. I'll guard these spoils like I'm guarding my own life.

"What's wrong?" the man taunts. "Never seen a man this handsome before, have you?"

"Get lost," I call out. Surprisingly, my voice doesn't waver.

I'm proud of myself. In these two years, I've gotten braver. Sure, I still run as fast as I can whenever I see stragglers in the distance. But now that someone has challenged me, I've thrown myself into the role of the queen putting a stamp on her domain. No person, no matter how frightening, will take this away from me. I'm Cosma Yang, the ruler of these outskirts. And I will resist you with plastic pipe in hand.

The man comes dangerously close, his toes grabbing footholds by some miraculous force. He swipes at me even though he's several meters away. I squint, getting into position. Once he comes close, I'll have to swing with all my might.

He climbs over a plastic bin, smiling like a jaguar when he becomes close enough to see the sweat dripping down my forehead.

Now is my chance. I swing.

The man ducks at the right moment. I lose my balance, slipping and almost completely tumbling off my mountain. The pipe launches from my hand into the mess below, and to save myself I grab the corner of a concrete slab. I dangle, with at least a five meter drop threatening me. I try to haul myself up again. Maybe it's the exhaustion of digging for so long. But I can't move a muscle.

The man wobbles over to my sack. With a sweeping kick, he scatters it. Metal falls out of the sack and flies in every direction toward the uneven grounds. The clattering is like a death march in my ears.

How dare he.

I haul myself up, but the man is quicker. Right when I purchase a foothold, he kicks my ankle. I slide again, this time having to grab onto some broken wood. Splinters dig deep into my palms.

I see the crazed look in his eyes. He's going to step on my fingers. I'll either break some bones or worse, tumbling down into the gray abyss. I close my eyes and brace myself for the impact.

"You should've been nice to me while you still could, girl."

"Hey!"

A boy's voice rises from the direction of the city. I see him from the corner of my eyes. Black jeans, black jacket, white t-shirt. And he's holding a gun.

The man above me sobers enough to lift his hands. "Hey, hey, hey. I was just messing around here. Don't mind me."

"Leave her alone," the boy says. "Or I shoot."

The man scrambles back, taking off like a rat about to be crushed by a cook's frying pan. In the chaos, I manage to climb up again. I feel as if I've ridden a roller coaster a hundred times. I lie on my back, peering at the gray sky. Thank God, my mother would say. I may be agnostic, but that doesn't mean I can't appreciate divine intervention when I see one.

I hear the rocks shifting again. I jolt up, wondering if the man has returned. But it's only the boy.

I squint, the dizziness of the past few minutes catching up to me. But when my eyes focus, I see a sweep of black hair which partly hides pretty dark eyes. His nose and mouth are small and delicate, the cut of his jaw matching the sharp cut of his jacket's collar. He must be my age, because he carries himself like he believes himself to be a man already, but the narrow width of his shoulders and the slight hesitance in his walk gives him away. He must not be used to threatening men with guns. What could've caused him to act?

But the answer comes immediately. "Half and half. What you've gathered." His voice is boyish too, and offense hits me against the chest.

Half of my spoils? That's totally unfair. But thinking about it, he did save my bones and maybe even my life. I have no choice.

I nod. "Because you saved me."

"For this reason only," he quips.

I despise him already. "Your name?" I ask. So I could put you on my blacklist.

"Jungkook," he says. "Yours?"

"Cosma," I say.

He tilts his head to one side, sliding his gun into his holster. "Strange name."

We don't speak at all as we head toward the scattered metals and begin sorting them out. Night is falling, but I feel safer with this boy here. Even though he is thieving me in a self-righteous way.

He produces a large sack like mine from his backpack. I curse internally, as I was hoping he didn't have the means to bring back much with him.

"When you pawn it, make sure to mention my name," I say. "Maybe you could get me a discount."

He scrunches his nose. "Saving your life is my payment."

Then he turns to leave. A shame. I was getting used to his presence. Maybe my lifestyle, the dish-washing scavenger, doesn't give me much time for boys. But I still know a good one when they pass me by. He's kind of my hero too, which won't make it easy to forget him.

I gather my findings, carrying them close to my chest. I have to head home quickly. Dinner won't make it on the table without me. 

A/N: Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think of the start of Cosma and Jungkook's journey.