Misaligned Ideals
Through the window of the van, the scenery of Geumji New City looked strange.
They had crossed only a single district boundary, yet it felt as though civilization's clock had begun ticking again.
Solar panels and emergency generators hummed atop the fortified apartment complexes, and the streetlamps along the roads glowed, faintly but unmistakably.
And yet there was no vitality in the people walking beneath that light.
Five o'clock in the afternoon — apparently shift-change time for the labor force.
Hundreds of people in gray work uniforms moved in orderly lines. Not one of them broke formation, not one exchanged so much as a word.
Sang-goo's eyes caught the badges on their chests — color-coded, stamped with numbers in place of names.
Sectors? Or a meticulously engineered caste system?
With no intelligence on the interior, there was nothing he could do but watch for now.
Exhaling a bitter breath, Sang-goo turned his gaze away. All across the streets, Black Guard operatives in black combat fatigues stood watch over the workers with rifles in hand.
If the Iron Corps is a war camp, this place is a tidy concentration army.
Clean streets without a scrap of garbage or a single corpse. Somehow, that very cleanliness was what made his skin crawl.
The van stopped at the center of the complex — a landmark tower with an unobstructed view of the sea. It was a world apart from anything the Iron Corps had.
"Please step out. The Commander is waiting for you."
"Surrender all weapons."
Sang-goo handed over everything — the greatsword, katana, axes, pistol, rifle, all of it.
"Not this one."
When he refused to part with Little, the guards froze, flustered. Of course they'd seen the footage from above — the vile CS round that had been fired into Little's back.
"If this is just a conversation, there shouldn't be a problem bringing him along. Right?"
A moment later, after a hushed exchange over the radio, the guard said with a stiff face, "Proceed."
Escorted, Sang-goo made his way to the penthouse on the top floor — Little at his side, naturally.
When the elevator doors opened, a luxurious office spread out before them, wide open to an ocean view. Plush leather sofas, marble floors, and an entire wall filled with shelves of premium whiskey.
A scene impossible to believe in the middle of an apocalypse.
There, a man stood gazing out at the sea, an espresso cup in hand. A crisply pressed black shirt, sharp eyes behind rimless glasses. The leader of the Black Guard.
He turned slowly.
"Welcome, Doctor of Yeongdo-gu. I'm Choi Min-seok, the man in charge of this place."
Not the voice from the radio earlier.
"Boo Sang-goo."
Sang-goo removed the goggles from his helmet and shook the man's hand. Sure enough, at the sight of Sang-goo's bare face, the man's eyebrows twitched.
Choi Min-seok studied the little dog nestled in Sang-goo's arms with evident fascination, then gestured toward the sofa.
"Coffee?"
"I'm fine."
"Ahem. You cleaned out those Shinsegae gang thugs, I hear. Saved us some trouble — garbage disposal was getting tedious. As a reward, ask for anything you like."
"I didn't come to collect a cleaning fee."
Sang-goo took his seat and cut to the point.
"What are you doing here?"
"Doing? Simply struggling to survive, like everyone else. Is Yeongdo-gu any different? You stopped by the Iron Corps, so you know. You know they're preparing for war."
"Word is you've been abducting children."
"Abduction…."
Choi Min-seok smirked and handed over his espresso. Sang-goo drank; the bitter taste seemed to suit him, and he spoke with a satisfied smile.
"That's the kind of crude language I'd expect from ignorant gangster trash. We are not barbarians. We're protecting them for the sake of humanity's future, that's all. Surely this kind of work should be led by those with the power to do it. Wouldn't you say?"
"We call protection without parental consent abduction."
"Mr. Boo Sang-goo. I hear you're affiliated with a government camp. A military man would understand — in wartime, personal freedom and human rights are luxuries."
"Not a soldier, strictly speaking. Not an army doctor, either."
"Really? Well… regardless."
Choi Min-seok rolled his neck once, then continued, keeping his expression smooth.
"I called you here to clear up a misunderstanding about us — and to show you a true cause. A goal on an entirely different plane from thugs like Ji Seong-gyu or the incompetent old fossils in the government."
His eyes brimmed with certainty. The arrogance of a man convinced that someone of Sang-goo's caliber would understand his vision and join him.
"So you're building something impressive, I take it."
"You came to the negotiating table anyway, did you not? I won't waste time with pleasantries — I intend to lay all my cards on the table. Once you see this, I believe Yeongdo-gu's thinking will crystallize. Who you should join hands with. Who you should be building the future with."
It didn't sound like a prelude to war — splitting cards, not spilling blood — so Sang-goo decided to hear him out to the end.
"Let's see it, then."
"Follow me. I'll show you our hope."
Choi Min-seok descended to the floors below the penthouse.
It was not what Sang-goo had expected.
Not the state-of-the-art facility he'd anticipated, but something hastily slapped together from equipment torn out of a university hospital's research lab. A handful of researchers in white coats bustled about.
They all appeared to be Korean doctors and scientists. Their eyes were bloodshot and hollow with exhaustion — but beneath that weariness, their gazes gleamed like fanatics.
"This way."
Choi Min-seok led him to a special quarantine chamber fronted by bulletproof glass.
"Take a look at this."
Sang-goo peered through the glass — and his eyes went wide.
A figure lay strapped to a bed by all four limbs. Pallid skin, abnormally overdeveloped muscle, and lifeless, grayish-blue pupils.
A clone. Undeniably.
It bore a strong resemblance to Jang Seok-woo and No. 4 — but this was a prototype far more unstable and deformed.
Just as a hollow laugh escaped Sang-goo's lips, Choi Min-seok spoke.
"That's the one we call 'Alpha.' Found him four months ago, in a container that washed up on the coast. Mr. Kim — explain to our guest from Yeongdo-gu, please."
Dr. Kim, who had been hovering at attention nearby, spoke up in an excited voice.
"It's a miracle. This specimen possesses complete immunity to the zombie virus. Even wounds regenerate in an instant! This is… a new species in humanity's evolution — a gift from nature itself!"
Found in a container that drifted ashore — and yet here they were, rambling about humanity's evolution as a gift from nature.
Have they lost their minds from wanting hope too badly?
Sang-goo pressed his mouth shut.
They didn't know. That thing was a failed bioweapon churned out by a pharmaceutical corporation called Holton.
They had simply fished Holton's discarded waste out of the surf and were enshrining it like a treasure trove.
"Ha… right. So what exactly are you doing with it?"
Sang-goo asked, his brow furrowing deep.
Choi Min-seok answered with quiet gravity.
"A vaccine. We're extracting its blood and bone marrow to synthesize a treatment."
"A vaccine…."
"But there was a problem. Its genes are so potent that injecting them into an adult body triggers a fatal rejection response. The researchers say a 'filter' is needed."
So Jang Seok-woo's cure-all caliber was out of reach after all.
"Filter?"
Choi Min-seok pointed toward the back of the lab, behind a large curtain.
"We believe only the purest blood — blood with the highest survival rates — 'the blood of the growing years' can strain out that immense power."
The sticking point wasn't that it worked — only that they believed it might.
They were grinding human beings into the machine for an experiment that might never succeed.
A sense of dread closed over Sang-goo like a hand. He strode forward and ripped the curtain aside.
"……!"
Sang-goo's fists clenched until the tendons cracked.
A dozen beds lined the room. The ones lying in them were children — boys and girls in their early-to-mid teens, faces still soft with youth.
Thick IV needles were buried in their arms as machines drained their blood.
Meaningless bloodletting.
If that could ever have worked, it would have worked already.
Sang-goo forced down the fury rising in his throat and spoke.
"Any progress?"
Dr. Kim answered, irritated.
"Not… yet. But results are certain to come soon. These children are humanity's Last Generation, after all."
The children's faces were bloodlessly pale, their eyes unfocused, staring at nothing. They looked like batteries wrung dry — life force being siphoned out of them.
Dr. Kim declared, shameless and solemn.
"Only with the children's clean blood can we dilute Alpha's serum. It is a sublime sacrifice. The vaccine their sacrifice creates will save humanity."
"That's why I asked if there was any progress. Or is it just that nothing works, and you keep feeding kids into the grinder regardless?"
Sang-goo's voice was ice. Dr. Kim's mouth worked uselessly, and the surrounding researchers began nervously checking each other's faces.
Choi Min-seok laid a hand on Sang-goo's shoulder.
"That Ji Seong-gyu crowd calls us kidnappers, but we don't hurt the children. We merely borrow them for a time — as 'resources' for humanity's future. What's the rush? I told you, results are coming soon."
Sang-goo turned his head, slowly, to look at him.
Choi Min-seok flinched, snatched his hand back from Sang-goo's shoulder, and managed a sheepish smile.
Sang-goo's expression split open.
These men were not devils. They were worse than devils.
Deluded into believing themselves saviors, chasing empty hope while sucking the blood out of children — lunatics, every one of them.
"A pack of quack lunatics snatching kids."
"Er… Representative Choi?"
Dr. Kim shuffled backward, wringing his hands. Two guards nearby scowled and closed in.
"Mr. Sang-goo. Watch your mouth. This is our territory. Insult our cause again, and it's war with Yeongdo-gu."
Choi Min-seok's gaze turned razor-sharp. The Black Guard operatives surrounding them leveled their muzzles at Sang-goo in unison, the clatter of safeties filling the lab.
Sang-goo snorted a laugh —
"Gah—!"
— and his arm shot out like a thunderbolt, seizing the man by the throat.
Choi Min-seok, no small man himself, was hoisted like a rag doll, and in the next instant he hung in front of Sang-goo's body — a human shield.
"You — you son of a bitch!"
"Don't!! Don't shoot!"
Overwhelming strength compounded with impossible speed. The researchers stared in horror, and the guards missed their window to pull the trigger.
Little bounded down and swept the floor with a scanner pulse. Then he dropped into a crouch, growling low, ready to lunge at anything that moved.
"Ghk… ghhrk…."
Choi Min-seok, caught in Sang-goo's grip, looked ready to die at any moment. His hands scrabbled and clawed at Sang-goo's arm while his dangling legs kicked uselessly at the air.
"Hey! Put him down! Now!"
"Requesting backup! Fuck! Everyone get up here!!"
Alarms howled — a shrieking wall of noise that deafened the ears.
Sang-goo looked at them all with perfectly level eyes.
Then his gaze met the eyes of a frail, gaunt girl lying on one of the beds —
"Haah… Captain Baek, please confirm the coordinates and request support."
Sang-goo spoke into the radio on his helmet.
And then —
Crack—!!
Gritting his teeth hadn't been enough to hold it in after all. He went ahead and did it.