Rescue and Reunion at Hwayang Market
"Over here, over here!" The voices were coming from a shop next to the barricade. But the shutter was down, blocking any view inside. Keeping my tension high, I headed toward the shop.
When we reached the front, the shutter lifted just a crack. Looked like they wanted us to crawl in.
"Know the voice?"
"Hmm... not really from the voice alone."
"One of the market merchants originally?"
"Na-young, it's the bread shop uncle!"
"Ah, must be the baker from next door."
The moment I heard Na-young's name, I relaxed enough to lower my bow. At least it was someone who knew her. No way they'd stick a knife in our heads the second we entered.
"Let's go in."
I sent Na-young in first, then crawled after her. Inside stood a middle-aged man with graying hair. His friendly face and plump build, complete with a protruding belly, fit the baker image perfectly.
"Uncle!"
"Shhh!!!"
The second we were inside, Na-young's relieved voice got loud, and the uncle pressed a finger to his lips, signaling silence. Then he beckoned us to follow with a hand gesture.
Once we passed the secondary barricade, he finally spoke.
"Na-young! You're alive."
"Uncle!!!"
She must not have much sense of personal space, because Na-young hugged him tight. He patted her back lightly, sharing the joy. I don't usually like others touching my things, but this guy had such a warm vibe, it didn't bother me. Guess he'd doted on her since she was little. They looked happy enough. That was the extent of my feelings.
"And you must be Na-young's boyfriend?"
"Yeah. Something like that."
Kim, the bread shop owner—or Bread Guy, as I thought of him—pulled out a walkie-talkie that looked like a kid's toy. He cleared his throat a few times, then keyed it.
"Aah. Mr. Im, you hearing me?"
"Don't be shocked!"
Judging by "Mr. Im," it had to be Na-young's dad on the other end. The words barely left Bread Guy's mouth before Na-young lunged for the walkie-talkie.
"Dad!!!!"
"Yes!!! I'm fine, totally unharmed!"
"Sob... Dad..."
The toy walkie-talkie's sound quality was crap. I could make out the words fine, but distinguishing voices was tough. Still, Na-young's dad recognized his daughter instantly.
We followed Bread Guy deeper into the market. Na-young couldn't hold back and started chatting with her dad over the radio—asking about Mom, Da-young, the whole family. When her mom's voice came through, she burst into tears and didn't stop.
"Reel her in a bit. Gonna attract every zombie around."
Worried about noise complaints from the daytime zombie neighbors, Bread Guy fidgeted anxiously.
"Na-young. Cut it out."
"Y-yes... okay...!"
Bread Guy stared in shock, mouth agape.
"Na-young acting that obedient? Back when she was a kid, she cried for days over a phone I wouldn't buy, and I ended up getting it for her."
"Really?"
"Yeah! You'd be shocked, kid... Well, world's ended, so nothing's surprising anymore."
The market buildings were packed tight with no gaps, making it easy to block zombie entry. As we walked, eyeing the surroundings, one sign caught my attention.
Na-young's Side Dish Shop
Full of fatherly love in the naming.
"This the place?"
"Huh? Yeah, our house... huh?"
She was puzzled by the dark interior when someone came running from afar. Mouth agape but silent—mindful of zombies—that silent scream was pure parental longing for a returned daughter.
"Thank goodness... thank goodness..."
"Dad... Mom..."
The couple enveloped Na-young in a tight hug, sobbing quietly. There was one more approaching. Behind the embracing parents stood a girl. One look, and I knew she was Da-young, Na-young's sister.
They do look alike.
Her outfit was ragged. Short-cropped hair, unevenly cut by hand, even matted. Jeans and a tee for mobility, but covered in grime from hauling junk. Yet her face was pure—beyond clean, almost innocent, noble. The shabby clothes only amplified it. A pearl rolling in mud stays a pearl.
"Dad. Let's talk inside. No noise out here."
After ushering the family in, Da-young eyed me. She knew I'd saved her sister, but her gaze was wary.
"...Her boyfriend? Come in too."
Their features were similar, but that cold glint explained the different vibe. Not just cold—edgy, sharp toward me. And I was her sister's savior. First person I'd met who might actually survive long in this world. Didn't like that edge aimed at me, though.
The central crossroads, farthest from zombies. That's where the market folk were holed up. About twenty merchants—aunties and uncles—crowded into a big room.
As we entered the house, eyes turned our way.
"...Isn't that Mr. Im's daughter?"
"Yeah? Thought she was dead. She's alive?"
The crowd swarmed Na-young, tossing blessings and chatter.
"Aigoo, sweetie, welcome back~!"
"Your dad cried buckets... Thank goodness..."
The place was a wreck. First thing that grabbed me: a hwatu game spread out on a military poncho, cards scattered like they'd just quit. Cash littered the floor, rice cracker bags beside it.
The men ignoring Na-young clutched green soju bottles. Not for lack of water—booze for hydration? Pointless anyway, given the state of them.
Da-young stayed back, cleaning the mess alone. Fury in every sweep. She flipped the poncho, scattering cards, and the player rushed over, scolding.
"Aigoo, girl! We were still playing—why flip it?!"
"Auntie... you think now's time for hwatu?!"
"...Then what? Want us to fight zombies?"
"Yes. I do it—why can't you aunties?"
"You're young, kid!"
Her thick arms and waist screamed strength over Da-young's, but she glared and jabbed a finger with full attitude. Da-young clenched her teeth, swept back her bangs, shut her eyes, suppressed the rage, and stepped aside.
The absurdity made me chuckle—then our eyes met.
"What're you looking at?"
I shrugged casually; she brushed past me and headed out. Next room over, following Na-young, was better. A market map spread out, lines drawn—survival meeting room, probably.
"Sorry for the late thanks. I'm Na-young's father. Truly grateful for saving our girl!"
"No... please, stand. It's fine."
I hadn't expected both parents alive—let alone the sister. The market didn't scream safe to me.
"You survived well. Glad it wasn't a wasted trip."
"Mr. Im saved us all."
Bread Guy answered. Mr. Im just scratched his head sheepishly; Bread Guy jumped in excitedly.
"Texts blowing up at dawn. Panicking, then Mr. Im blocks the entrance with his truck. Yelling 'Block it quick! Block!' Mild-mannered guy overflowing with energy..."
His efforts kept this bunch alive. Not sure it was worth it—just rescued dead weight?
"Mind a private word? Clear out, please."
"Uh...? Oh, sure."
Bread Guy looked flustered but left.
"Na-young, explain."
Better from her mouth than mine.
"So, we were living in Gangwon, and there... ."
She rambled, but the gist: safe shelter exists—come with me. Dad's face mixed joy and something off after hearing it all.
"Na-young... Dad can't go."
"...What? What do you mean, can't?"
"Can't abandon lifelong neighbors to save myself... Better to fight here longer."
"So you're staying?"
"Yes."
"Dad, you're crazy?? Mom!!! Talk him down!"
She wailed, threw tantrums, raged—nothing budged him.
"...Do what you want!"
Na-young stormed out. I should follow. No point staying; it'd just hurt my eyes. Scope out her old house, crash one night, bail fast. They wanna die boozing to save these losers? Fine by me.
As I turned to go, a hand grabbed me.
"...Got a favor to ask you."
"What?"
Expected "take care of my wife and second daughter"—not this nonsense.
"Could you help these folks a little?"
"No way? You nuts? Help those idiots?"
No chance in hell.