The overwhelming presence of a top predator emanating from that massive frame.
The glossy, flowing chestnut mane.
I gazed in awe at the majesty of the grizzly bear captured through the camera lens.
Even from afar, the beast's predatory glare as it eyed its prey felt intensely threatening.
Cool as hell.
The bear probably knew we were there. Bears have an insanely sharp sense of smell—far superior to dogs—and without it, they would've gone extinct long ago, unable to find food.
These are the creatures that can smell bread baking from two kilometers away and come running.
Now, imagine running into a grizzly like that in the wild, with its ridiculous specs.
One swipe of its paw would shatter an adult man's skull like nothing. And its hide? Tough enough to shrug off most rifle rounds without dying in one hit.
Sure, I'd seen that boxing manga where a top fighter punches out an Asian black bear in an epic scene... but that's manga. A regular guy like me? One paw to the face, and I'd be lights out for good.
Unlike the popular image, bears don't see humans as prey—they treat us as threats and steer clear. But run into a mother with cubs nearby? Ugh, just thinking about it makes my legs shake.
I'm safe for now, though.
Luckily, a swarm of lively salmon was thrashing upstream with all their might, drawing every ounce of the grizzlies' aggression. And our film crew had an ecology expert watching our backs.
Thanks to that, our director was filming the bears up close and personal. Being the naturally timid type—and only two years into this gig—I could only admire the man's iron nerves.
It's hunting!
A moment later.
The lens captured what looked like a 400kg male grizzly charging into the salmon run.
I focused every bit of my attention to record the spectacle in full.
With lightning-quick paws, it snatched a salmon and ripped into it with gaping jaws. Must've been starving.
It was late October now—hibernation was right around the corner—so it needed to stockpile calories fast.
Crunch crunch!
Damn... he's devouring it.
Whoa, hold up.
Right then, another grizzly of similar size approached the one I was filming.
Prime fishing spot on the line—tensions were rising fast.
"Grrooar!"
Thwack!
"Grruh!"
Bear No. 1—the one I'd been shooting—took a solid hit from Bear No. 2's swing. Clean connect; Bear No. 1's momentum faltered.
The sudden brawl spooked even our unflappable director, who quietly backed away for safety.
This footage is gold.
I could already hear the smooth voice-over narration playing over it.
This was my chance to snag prime documentary material!
"Grrooar!"
"Grrk!"
Thwack! Thud thud thud!
Bear No. 1 and No. 2 traded furious combos, evenly matched.
Their snarls and apex-predator vibes blasted through the lens so vividly, I forgot to breathe as I kept filming.
"Grooo... "
"GRRROOOAR!"
Then Bear No. 2 ate a perfect counter-swipe from No. 1, tucked tail, and bolted.
I'd been subconsciously rooting for No. 1, so I let out a silent cheer.
Hell, I wanted to reward those bears with a steak dinner for the show.
Glad I joined the docu team.
As the eternal baby of any crew—and barely a third-year at that—the grueling docu life was my jam precisely because I got to grab the camera now and then.
Dramas and variety shows had short shoots by comparison. And I'd lucked into a team led by Kim Seung-hyun PD, Korea's top documentary authority.
My ecology major made my folks—especially Mom, with her endless doting—beg me not to join. But I'd never regretted it for a second.
Standing face-to-face with nature like this, capturing its raw grandeur through my lens? Priceless.
Tough, but worth it.
Still, tough was tough.
Crack.
I stood to stretch my stiff body, and my back screamed in protest.
Shooting dragged on another eight hours. By wrap-up, the director's call to pack it in sounded like a battalion commander's gravelly voice announcing early discharge after five years—like music to my ears.
Shoot span: 1 year, 6 months.
Total filming time: 3,500 hours.
The weight of all that time felt etched into my body like battle scars.
Keeping my voice low to avoid spooking the bears, I hustled back to base camp and finally vented the tension with a hearty yell.
"Great work, everyone!"
More relief than pride in finishing the project, honestly.
"Baby bro! Good job, you little punk!"
Whap whap.
Sim Young-seok, our top shooter, pounded my back hard.
The guy's a natural muscle machine—even through his thick puffy jacket, the impacts thudded deep.
"Ow, that hurts."
"Heh. Tough lil' squirt, ain't ya?"
His words brought back memories of my first day.
He'd griped to the PD about where we dug up such a weakling and suggested sending me packing. Stung at the time.
But looking back, he was looking out for me. An unprepared newbie wouldn't last months—and it'd hurt the team and my career big time.
"Kwon Ha-yul, man of his word. Says he'll do it, gets it done."
"Heh heh, I'll treat ya big when we get back, promise. Gotta stick together, right?"
"Damn straight. Ahh, soon as I'm home, I'm gaming my ass off."
"Tch tch, simple pleasures for a young buck. Me? Gonna hole up a month straight binging wuxia dramas."
Whoa. Ambitious goals.
Come to think of it, Sim loved wuxia novels and dramas.
He'd launch into tales from them whenever bored. Fun at first, but eventually I'd slip away when the stories looped.
Same tales over and over...
How does a sober guy repeat himself like that? Baffling dude.
"Whoa... grand plans. But think it'll stick? Bet your wife kicks you out for cash in a week."
"Hey! Watch it, punk. My little lady don't stand a chance against me. In my house, my word's law."
"...Sure, sure."
I just nodded.
No point arguing.
Big tough guy act, but he'd fold in front of his wife.
Once editing wrapped, Kim Seung-hyun PD would take a break too. But knowing him, a week tops before he jumped into variety gigs, camera in hand.
"Hey, kid."
"Yeah?"
I was heading to crash when the PD called me.
"Got a big heater in my room? Take it back to the lab. Borrowed it. You know the spot?"
"Oh, yeah."
I took the van keys he handed over.
Thirty-minute drive? Piece of cake after this grind.
Was feeling great about finally crashing... till steam whooshed out.
"Ngh."
So damn heavy—I barely loaded it onto the one-ton van.
Rrrumble.
Behind the wheel, I fired it up and headed for the lab.
Alaska Geological Research Institute or something. Close by, but the road was a beast.
Bump bump.
"Ow, my ass."
Every rut in the unpaved track jolted straight to my butt.
The pain snapped my drooping eyelids wide open.
Slap slap!
"Stay sharp!"
To fully wake up, I smacked my cheeks loud.
No slacking.
Last day of shooting—can't risk an accident.
Not just trouble—total disaster.
I needed to get home safe, burrow into warm blankets like a maggot. I earned that.
"Yawwwn..."
But twenty minutes later, drowsiness crashed back.
All tension gone now that shooting was done.
My numb butt had gone fully numb to the bumps.
"No!"
Slap slap!
I smacked again.
"Ow..."
Tears welled—hit too hard.
But pain beats dozing.
Drowsy driving's attempted murder.
Survived this far—can't turn criminal now.
"...Wha?!"
But...
Life doesn't bend to my will.
Forces beyond control exist.
No superpowers—how do I dodge a car popping out at the worst timing?
Honk honk!
Screeech!
Round the corner—head-on with another vehicle. I slammed the brakes.
Would've been fine... but instinct yanked the wheel left.
And left was a steep drop.
Vrooom!
...Screwed.
The van lifted off.
Bang! Crash! Boom!
A brutal shock rocked my body.
Thud! Splat!
No thoughts.
Just primal survival screaming in my brain.
Live... gotta... live!
Thud.
Blackout.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
...!
Beeeep——.
Ears ringing, vision black.
Blacked out for a sec.
Assess.
One-ton van probably tumbled down the slope, snagged on a tree jutting out.
Engine fire? Boom—donezo.
Got to live.
Can't die like this.
Endured 18 hellish months—can't go without seeing Mom and Dad again!
Damn that Kim Seung-hyun making me haul the heater!
Snap!
I forced my eyes open with everything I had.
They wouldn't budge at first, but sheer will prevailed.
"...?"
A blinding white world greeted me.
...Not heaven, right?
Please, no.
Whirr.
Swirling vision steadied.
Whew, thank God.
Closer look: hospital.
Steady beeps from vitals, oxygen mask over my mouth—clear signs.
Passed out at the scene, looks like.
Swish.
A lovely blonde nurse approached.
I widened my eyes to signal I was alive.
"Oh!"
She bolted from the room.
Doctor incoming, probably.
Creak.
I turned my head, lifted an arm.
Moves.
All good.
Now legs.
...Huh?
Something's off.
Like my lower half never existed—no sensation.
...Terror hit.
Am I crippled forever?
Legs amputated in the crash?
Calm down. Just post-accident shock.
Clack clack clack.
Forcing happy thoughts, then crisp heels approached—a man who looked like the specialist.
He spoke.
American, so English, duh.
"If you are sane, blink your eyes twice."
Me? Monolingual Korean English-hater. No clue.
...What the hell was that gibberish?
His fluent roll floored my TOEIC-550 ass.
Sounded like showing off.
Hey, I know IZ*ONE and TWICE.
Sudden craving for my fave girl groups hit.
What kinda absurd thought in a hospital bed?
What am I even...
Anyway, caught two words. Context: blink twice if lucid.
Blink blink.
Nailed it.
"Ok. You must take absolute stability..."
Blah blah blah.
English anxiety spiked—I shut my eyes.
He briefed the nurse, then left. She followed.
...Life.
Alone again, the world's cruelty sank in.
Fresh-faced 28, stuck in a hospital bed... If only I'd turned right...
No—if I'd skipped the docu team...
No—if I'd never joined the station...
Then.
If only.
Left solo, grim what-ifs gnawed my brain. A path I'd never regretted... but maybe I was wrong.
One crash shatters my metal? Pathetic.
Hell, anyone for company—even in English.
Mom, sorry. Useless son crashed in Alaska. Sniff...
Mid-self-pity, a key fact hit.
Tied straight to survival.
Workers' comp? Gotta get it.
And another survival issue.
US hospitals are pricey. Covered by comp?
Kwon Ha-yul, 28.
Just a regular early-20s Korean grinding student loans.
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