Kang Hanna

Kieeeek!

The blade bit with a wet, shearing sound. The first zombie dropped, and my eyes were already on the next.

The second and third came on at nearly the same pace. I turned with them, brought the sword down one-handed, and sent the second one's head spinning free. In that same breath the third lunged in from behind—only to catch my kick and go flying. I settled my grip and took its neck without hurry.

Keep going. Don't stop here.

The next three hit me all at once. I dropped low and rolled across the ground, then snapped the blade up high again. It fell like lightning and sheared through two necks in a single stroke. The third was already reaching for me; I seized the arm, hauled it in, and cut that throat just as cleanly.

The rest kept coming. Ruin hadn't slowed them. One swung its claws at my arm, and I gave ground at once, catching the strike on the sword. Nails met steel, threw sparks, and snapped. I answered in the same motion and took the seventh zombie's head off its shoulders.

"Kieeeeeek!"

The last two didn't look tired at all. If anything they came harder. My body was wearing down, but there was no room to rest; after the seventh neck I kept moving, fast and exact, right to the end. The eighth and ninth struck together. I met them without rushing and put them down one after the other.

At last they were all down, and the street went quiet again. I stood with the sword in hand and didn't move for a moment, only listening. In that stillness the only sound was my own breathing. Survival instinct and swordwork—both of them had come a long way. I could feel it in my bones.

"You all right over there?"

I ignored the notifications stacking up and called back to the policewoman slumped on the ground behind me.

"Y-you..."

She had been sitting there the whole time, staring blankly while I cut the zombies down. The word came out like a last breath. Then she fainted.

"What— what?"

The sudden collapse threw me. I went over to her, and only then did it make sense.

"Ha. Of course she passed out."

The uniform was dark, and even so the sweat had soaked it through until you could see it. She must have run herself empty trying to shake the zombies, and the moment I finished them, exhaustion had simply shut her off.

"Haa... this just got annoying."

Somewhere far off, more of them were coming—drawn, no doubt, by the gunshots. I hauled the officer up over one shoulder and got out of there before the circle closed.

"Ugh. What am I supposed to do with this woman."

I couldn't just dump her. The emergency quest still hadn't cleared, which probably meant the system wouldn't count it until I got her somewhere safe. And throwing away someone I'd already gone to the trouble of saving didn't sit right either.

"Somewhere safe... and there's only one place like that, isn't there?"

In this apocalypse, safe was a very short list. The only spot I actually trusted was one. So I decided to take her home—to my place.

"God, I'm beat."

Once I made it through ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the door I dumped the woman off my ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠shoulder onto the living-room sofa, and only then could I breathe.

"Dodging zombies the whole way back was a filthy kind of work."

Part of it was slipping past the ones the gunfire had pulled in. The rest was simpler: with a woman slung over one shoulder, I hadn't felt like fighting. Every time I ran into them I went around instead, and by the time I finally got home I'd burned twice as long as the usual walk.

"Cutting it this close to sundown... if I hadn't made it, that would've been ugly."

The light died the moment I stepped inside. Truly down to the wire. Hauling someone on my shoulder was bad enough; lose my sight to the dark on top of that, and it would have turned lethal fast.

Only after I set her down on the sofa did the quest finally register as complete.

"So hauling her all the way home really was the right call."

The shoulder ache had been worth it.

I was still pleased with the reward when something else occurred to me.

"Right. The gun."

Worse than any zombie was a person waking in a panic and yanking a trigger. I approached her carefully.

The curve just visible beneath the uniform drew my hand. I felt along the breast pocket first, and the soft flesh of her chest pressed flush against my palm.

"Mmm... haa..."

Each time my fingers slipped between the buttons and brushed the springy peaks of her breasts, a low moan escaped her lips without her knowing. I pushed the touch deeper, sweeping down under her armpit and along her side, and warmth came back to me with a fine tremor running through it. My palm slid past her waist to the inside of her thigh, still searching pockets, and Kang Hanna's brow tightened as another sound left her.

"Nn... ah..."

At last, in the holster on the inside of her right thigh, my hand closed on metal—cold, and heavy.

A Smith & Wesson M60. The revolver most Korean cops carried. I checked the cylinder. Three rounds left.

I pulled the gun free, hid it deep in the drawer behind the sofa, and straightened her uniform again until it sat neat. For a while after that, Kang Hanna's face stayed with me—lips parted, a moan still slipping out of her while she slept.

"That ought to do it."

My stomach growled, loud and empty.

"Nothing since breakfast. Might as well eat."

I took beef out of the fridge to shut the hunger up. Same thing I'd had that morning, but it had been long enough that I wasn't sick of it—and it would spoil if I left it, so this was what had to go first anyway.

The meat hit the pan with a savory hiss.

"Mmm... mm."

Maybe it was the sound of it cooking. Maybe the smell. Either way, the woman stirred and opened her eyes.

"Oh, you're awa—"

The instant her eyes opened she found me, and her hands flew to her chest on reflex.

"...!"

She searched herself again and again. The pistol that should have been there was gone. Her gaze went sharp. She shot up off the sofa, swept the room, and snatched the mop handle leaning against the wall, leveling it at me.

"You— who the hell are you?!"

"Where's my gun!"

The end of the stick pointed at my chest. It wasn't a firearm, but the wariness behind it hadn't dropped by a hair. I didn't answer, and that only wound her tighter.

"I'm asking who you are, you bastard!"

Who else? The guy who saved your life. I kept my mouth shut anyway. Set her off any further and this would get worse. I needed something that might actually calm her down.

Something calming...

"W-want some beef?"

"......?"

I held out the steak, done all the way through, and said it like it was the most reasonable offer in the world.

"Mmph... sorry... for being rude earlier..."

Once the storm had passed, the officer worked her way through the beef and mumbled it at me between bites.

"Yeah, yeah. Finish eating, then talk. Finish eating."

I watched her with something close to pity while she burned through my food. It hurt to see the stores go, but she'd put two hundred points in my pocket. I could let it slide.

"So... mmph... that's how it happened."

"I told you to talk after you're done."

We ate together anyway, and between mouthfuls ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠she laid out how she'd ended up with zombies on her heels. She and three colleagues had gone out looking for food when a zombie dropped out of a building—and landed, with spectacular bad luck, on top of a car. The theft alarm went off. The noise pulled a crowd. With no other play left, she'd made herself the bait and drawn them off so the others could get clear.

"That's impressive."

Volunteering as bait in a mess like that wasn't a call just anyone could make. It took nerve, and a real willingness to be spent.

"What's so impressive? I did what I thought was the right move."

She said it like it was nothing.

"Oh, right—we never introduced ourselves. I'm Kang Hanna. You?"

"......"

The question froze me, and I couldn't have said why. Had I forgotten my own name? Was this some moment when I wasn't supposed to give it? No. Neither. Since the apocalypse started, she was simply the first person who had asked.

The convenience-store kid whose life I'd saved. The woman downstairs I'd kept fed. They'd taken the favor and never once cared what I was called. Now someone was asking, and the feeling of it sat strangely deep.

"Dohyun..."

"Hm?"

"Park Dohyun."

It had been a long time since I'd put my own name in my mouth.

"All right, Park Dohyun. Thanks for saving me."

Kang Hanna held out her hand. I took it.

When the meal was over I pulled the confiscated pistol from the drawer behind the sofa and held it out to her.

"This is yours, right?"

"...Ah. So you did take it. Thanks for giving it back."

She accepted it looking flustered, and the thanks came out awkward.

"What are you doing?"

The moment the gun was in her hands she dropped down and started checking it over. I had to ask.

"Ah... I used up the blanks, so I'm lining the empty chambers to come up first. Don't get the wrong idea."

Only then did Hanna seem to realize what she was doing, and she hurried to explain. The implication still crawled up my spine. When she'd leveled that mop handle at me, if I hadn't already taken the gun, it would have been a live weapon pointed at my chest. It hadn't happened. I let it go.

"Stuff like this has to be done right away, or somebody gets hurt."

"Yeah. Do what you need to."

Once the check was finished she looked around the living room, and the admiration slipped out of her before she could stop it.

"This is a really nice place, by the way."

"Well. Yeah."

I shrugged and let it stand. Then her eyes stopped on the photograph of an elderly couple hanging on the wall.

"Who are they?"

"The old couple who used to live here."

Hanna's gaze went sharp.

Suspicion sat hard in her eyes, and they cut straight through me.