The Zombie Alarm Dog
Baengnyeongdo Weather Station.
Most of the inland meteorological observation posts had been overrun by zombies, and thanks to its relatively safe geography, this place had become the beating heart of Korean weather forecasting.
Demoted to a rock in the sea, then a zombie apocalypse happens. Of course.
Forecaster Yoon Do-sik's hobby was reading web novels, and his current situation looked exactly like one of their titles.
He had originally worked at the Korea Meteorological Administration in Seoul. A man who'd spent his whole career refusing to play office politics, he'd taken the fall for a botched heavy-rain forecast two years ago and been exiled to Baengnyeong Island.
Which was precisely why he had survived the zombie outbreak.
Life really is a case of blessing in disguise.
Rrriiing—
His phone rang. He checked the caller: an employee of the Presidential Office.
Yoon Do-sik scowled — then pressed the call button.
"Yoon Do-sik, forecaster, Baengnyeongdo Weather Station."
—Forecaster, this is Choi Seong-tae. Belatedly, happy New Year to you!
"And to you, Assistant Secretary."
After a few rounds of polite small talk, the assistant secretary got to the weather.
—Forecaster, when can we expect spring this year?
He had called at the end of last year and asked the exact same question.
"Ipchun falls on February 4th."
—That's not what I'm asking. When does the kind of spring where flowers bloom arrive?
"Hard to say. I really couldn't tell you."
Weather forecasting was a composite of countless variables. And there was no such thing as a forecast that declared, "Spring begins one week from today." Even after Ipchun, when temperatures briefly seemed to climb, a late-spring cold snap could send them plunging right back down. That was simply how the weather worked.
—You're telling me you can predict bloom dates but not when spring arrives?
"Who could possibly know when the flowers will bloom?"
—It's all over the internet.
"That's just the climatological average written down. Shift the accumulated temperature even slightly and the date moves."
Yoon Do-sik knew perfectly well why the Presidential Office assistant secretary was calling him to have this ridiculous conversation.
They want to hear that spring is coming early this year.
The existing forecasting infrastructure had collapsed with the zombie crisis — which meant that whatever came out of the mouth of an actual forecaster could be packaged by the Presidential Office as an "official announcement from the Meteorological Administration."
The entire nation was desperate for spring to come early. Because that meant the zombies would weaken sooner.
And so the government kept churning out feel-good talking points to relieve the public's psychological strain. A forecast that this year's spring would arrive ahead of the climatological average would be the best one imaginable.
—Forecaster, wouldn't you say spring might come a bit early this year?
Yoon Do-sik absolutely refused to give the answer the man wanted.
"I don't know."
—Understood. I'll call again later. I can expect good news then, can't I?
"We'll see."
—Haha, keep up the good work.
"You as well."
When the call ended, Yoon Do-sik stared down at his phone and muttered,
"Like spring's going to hurry up just because someone's got a forecaster by the throat."
He got to work.
He reviewed the measured data from the observation station and integrated the material coming in from the ECMWF (European Centre for Medium-Range Weather Forecasts), NOAA (the U.S. climate prediction center), and the WMO (World Meteorological Organization).
Hm?
There were several unusual patterns that deviated from the climatological norm. Between week eight and week twelve — roughly mid-March to early April — a severe cold wave was highly likely to strike the entire Korean Peninsula.
And remarkably similar patterns were being observed all over the world.
That said, it wasn't strange enough to call it a meteorological collapse.
"Forget spring — is an ice age on the way?"
Pfft.
Yoon Do-sik laughed at his own joke, alone in the station.
I stepped into the farm annex. Daylight was fading, so zombie hunting would begin tomorrow.
Maybe I'll take a shower.
I turned on the faucet at the sink. Naturally, no water came out — I hadn't paid the 1 coin yet.
Since I could wash with stream water and charge my phone with a portable solar panel, using the annex's water and electricity was still a matter of choice.
10 coin
Set aside the emergency reserve, and I had a comfortable 3 coin of slack.
Today's the first day the annex exists. Might as well celebrate.
I decided to try out the water and electricity service.
1 coin has been spent.
I immediately turned on the shower.
Shhh—
I stared blankly at the stream of water pouring out.
I used to see this every single day of my life. Why did it feel so awe-inspiring now?
Could it possibly have hot water too?
I turned the lever toward the hot side, and the water temperature began to climb. When I checked, I found an electric water heater installed inside the wall behind the shower. It was a tankless, on-demand unit — the moment electricity flowed, hot water came instantly.
I fetched my toiletries from the tent, stripped off my clothes, and tossed them into the washing machine. I threw in some powdered detergent meant for hand-washing. A proper drum-machine detergent would have been nice.
Shhh—
The shower was glorious. The water temperature and pressure were perfect, and the hot stream seemed to melt the fatigue out of my entire body. Steam quickly clouded the cramped little bathroom.
The thought that I was standing inside a fortress no flamethrower could breach let every knot of tension loosen, and the shower became a genuine pleasure. Hum-hm-hmm— a tune bubbled up out of me unbidden.
Once I was scrubbed clean, I toweled off.
A hair dryer would be nice.
If I was paying good coins for electricity, I might as well wish for other appliances while I was at it. A hair dryer, a microwave, a vacuum cleaner — those were essentials. And with internet access, a high-spec laptop or desktop would be great too.
Unbelievable.
The moment the annex appeared, my list of wants had somehow grown longer than before.
After putting on clean clothes, I settled into the expensive chair and adjusted the seat pan, backrest, lumbar support, headrest, and armrests to fit my frame, then leaned back comfortably.
Ooh, yes. This is the stuff.
I picked up the phone lying on the desk and opened the app, checking the zombie density in the surrounding area. Red was spreading along National Route 44.
I had no intention of diving straight into a danger zone to hunt. My physical abilities had grown somewhat stronger, but trusting that alone and overreaching was a good way to die.
The best spots were the boundary strips between red and yellow.
That forest from back then would be perfect.
The woods about ten kilometers from Inje-eup, where I'd first encountered a zombie while hunting rabbits, was just the right hunting ground for the current me.
With zombie hunting on my mind, I suddenly recalled a video I'd seen — contestants competing with homemade zombie-proof armor — and played it.
The contestants unveiled a whole variety of protective gear.
—"I built a full-body suit from the same material used in anti-dog-bite gloves, with waterproof fiber layered over it so the zombie virus can't penetrate."
Thick leather plus waterproof fiber? Wearing that, forget running — you'd struggle to walk. The thing would weigh a ton, and the stiff joints would make every movement look wooden. Sure enough, the contestant wearing it waddled a few steps and then stood there heaving for breath.
The next contestant came out.
—"I forged plate armor from a lightweight, high-strength alloy! It obviously stops teeth, and even crushed under ten zombies you won't be squeezed to death!"
Compared to the suit introduced right before it, it was genuinely well made. The medieval design was pretty cool, too.
The host posed a question.
—"Let's say ten zombies have piled on top of you. Sure, the armor saves you from being crushed. But how do you escape from that situation? Do you wait until the zombies head home to watch their dramas?"
The contestant flushed red.
—"Well... um... I hadn't thought that far."
The introductions of other armor designs continued one after another, and I watched the entire video with complete seriousness. Every last contestant had clearly planned and built their gear with tremendous care — but not a single entry earned an this is absolutely amazing! from me.
.
.
.
Dawn broke over the Blessed Farmland, and a new day began. I opened my eyes on the bed.
Slept like a rock!
My body felt so refreshed it could have floated away. The first thing I did upon getting up was shower.
Shhh—
Unused water and electricity didn't roll over to the next day, so I resolved to use the full 500 liters of water and 20 kWh of electricity, every day.
After the shower, I looked at my reflection in the mirror above the sink.
Hair's a disaster.
It had been roughly forty-five days since the zombie outbreak, and I hadn't had a haircut in two months. I wanted to trim it up neatly, but there was no way to do it. Should I just shave it all off? Even for a buzz cut, I had no clippers. Nothing for it — I'd just have to live with it for now.
In light clothing, I stepped outside the annex and started stretching on the terrace. Today was the first day of my training regimen.
The Amplification Coefficient multiplies your base physical ability — which means the better your baseline conditioning, the more explosive the buffed results become. And the higher the coefficient climbed, the starker that gap grew.
No exercise equipment, so calisthenics first.
I searched online for calisthenics videos and played one, following along with the expert on screen.
With my Amplification Coefficient at 1.7, even the high-difficulty moves reserved for elite practitioners came easily. Handstands were effortless, and I could do push-ups while holding one. I even managed a one-armed handstand push-up — the result of improved balance on top of raw strength. A quick search showed that only a tiny handful of people worldwide could do that.
After practicing those ultra-advanced moves, sweat was beading on my forehead — but my heart rate stayed in the proper range and I barely felt tired. My cardio capacity and endurance had improved considerably too.
If 1.7 felt like this, what would 5.0 or 10.0 feel like?
I seriously can't wait!
Bark-bark-bark-bark—
The dog came trotting over, tail wagging. A glance at his bowl showed he'd licked it spotless after yesterday's meal.
"Rest as long as you want, and leave whenever you feel like leaving."
As if a dog could understand a word I said.
I geared up for the hunt — winter gear on, weapons in hand — and scanned my surroundings.
There had been three zombies left behind yesterday. Now there were only two: one near the stream, one at the foot of the hill. The third was nowhere in sight. It had wandered off somewhere else — zombies never stay in one place; they drift endlessly.
Either way, I had to clear them out before going anywhere. In the end, they'd worked exactly one day as my security detail.
I stepped outside the Blessed Farmland.
Kreeek—
The zombie by the stream charged at me.
Thwip—
I loosed an arrow, and it punched clean through the thing's brow. Drawing my kukri, I closed the distance and took its head.
10 coin
The same routine finished off the one at the foot of the hill.
11 coin
I shoved the corpses inside the Blessed Farmland, and with a soft hhsss— they crumbled into dust and scattered.
Then I set off toward my pre-chosen hunting ground, the dog trotting along behind me.
I didn't care whether he followed or not. He wouldn't interfere with the hunt, and the zombies wouldn't be hurting him.
I followed the same route I'd once tracked rabbits along. After about ten minutes of walking—
Whine.
The dog's tail drooped, fear written all over his face. I understood why.
Zombies nearby, apparently.
Scanning through my binoculars, I spotted one in the far distance. His chase by that zombie horde must have left him with real trauma — so the smell of zombies made him anxious.
A dog's sense of smell is beyond any human comparison. Considering scent separation, sustained tracking, and the ability to read the temporal flow of a smell, their noses are tens of thousands of times more precise than ours. From a human perspective, a dog's nose is a genuine superpower.
Even once I raised my Amplification Coefficient past 100.0 and could hoist a one-ton truck one-handed, I might still never catch up to a dog's nose.
I left the dog where he stood and approached the zombie alone. It was the third one, the one that had vanished — come here of all places. One look at the clothing confirmed it. A zombie in a wedding dress wasn't exactly a common sight.
Kreeek—
The zombie spotted me and charged. Bow and kukri made short work of it.
12 coin
I started walking deeper into the forest, the dog trotting along behind. After another five minutes—
Whine.
He showed signs of anxiety again. I swept the area with my binoculars. There, a good distance off, stood a single zombie, half-hidden behind a thicket — without the dog, I'd have had a hard time spotting it.
I looked down at him and said,
"You're a walking zombie alarm, you know that?"
I eliminated the zombie and pushed on along the forest path.